


A Golden Grey

by Cateia



Series: The Chronicles of Vael [4]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Arcane Warrior, Dancing, F/M, First Love, Kissing, Non-Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sparring, masturbation (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-11 23:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cateia/pseuds/Cateia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The trip to Lothering was just supposed to be a strategic stop while Alistair, Elissa, and Morrigan planned their next move. That was before Alistair met Aspasia Hawke in the Chantry. Is it possible to fall madly in love with someone in just two weeks? A total bastardization of the 30-Day OTP Challenge. </p><p>Re-write completed January 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holding Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I’m digging the idea of using of ericandy’s 30 Day OTP Challenge to show how the relationship between Alistair and Aspasia developed, but since they only knew each other for roughly two weeks prior to being separated, I modified the meme a bit. I eliminated a few of the ‘days’, and combined a couple of others into the same ‘day’. Alistair’s POV. Covers the period between entries 3 and 6 of Hawke's Journal. Rated M for sexual content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been re-reading my older fics lately and cringing at most of them. Going through this work and cleaning up grammar, syntax, and just plain bad writing. I won't be changing any of the events, though.

In the Lothering Chantry, Alistair looked at the pretty ginger-haired girl in front of him. She was backing away from him slowly as she stared at his outstretched hand.  _Why does she look creeped out?_ He looked down at his own hands, suddenly realizing he had neglected to wash his gloves--they were still covered in the blood of the bandits who had been camped outside of town.

_How stupid of me._ Alistair ripped off his bloodied gloves and tucked them into his belt, checking to ensure none of the blood transferred to his hands. “Oh! There were some bandits at the entrance to the city. They tried to take our money and Elissa over there…ugh, I’m such an idiot,” he blurted, the very last part muttered under his breath so quietly that Aspasia didn’t hear it. _Maker’s breath…can I manage to get out one bloody sentence without sounding like a complete fool? Please?_ _This girl is really, really pretty and I’d like to keep talking to her. Or at least watch her talk. I could just stare at her for a few hours and be happy, to be honest._

Alistair managed to overcome his anxiety and cleared his throat. “We took care of the problem," he said as he flashed a lopsided grin, just as he'd watched his friend Sebastian do so many times when he wanted to charm the smalls right off of a girl.

Something must have worked, because the cute ginger girl returned the smile. “Wow. Really? Those guys have been there for a while. How courageous of you, being strangers to Lothering and all. My name’s Aspasia Hawke, how do you do?” The freckle-faced beauty said, playing the part of a flirt perfectly as she extended her hand for Alistair to kiss.

_Wow. She hasn’t run away yet? She’s actually giving over her hand for me to take? Look at those delicate fingers…those perfectly-shaped nails. She even has a tiny mole right below her pinky knuckle…wait. I should probably actually kiss her hand before she gets offended, yes? Yes._ Alistair took the extended hand hesitantly, marveling at its warmth. He ran a thumb over her knuckles as he brought her hand to his lips, grazing them lightly. He felt a tiny tingle of electricity as he touched her, which sent a shiver down his spine. Alistair slowly lowered her hand, feeling unbearably hot, throat drier than a desert, certain that the Maker himself was about to send down a bolt of lightning for taking such pleasure in such a simple act. He looked at the girl through his dark blonde lashes, noticing that she had the barest hint of a blush on her neck, disappearing below the neckline of her simple dress. Several moments passed—it seemed like an eternity—while they gazed at each other. Eventually, Alistair realized he was still holding Aspasia’s hand. He reluctantly released it and nervously ran a hand through his cropped locks.

“I’m well, thank you, Lady Hawke. Um, do you know where the tavern is in town? I’m parched,” Alistair said, still amazed that the pretty girl hadn’t turned tail and ran out of the Chantry. He let out a welcome sigh of relief. _Yes._ _I_ am _well._ Very _well. Better than I’ve been in months._


	2. Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alistair runs into Aspasia at the blacksmith's. (Coincides with entry 4 of Hawke's Journal)

It had been several days since Alistair had met Aspasia Hawke in the Lothering Chantry, and the pretty ginger mage had been haunting his thoughts ever since. There was something about her that sang to him, made him long to be around her. Unfortunately, the Blight didn't seem to get the memo, and he hadn’t been able to sneak away from his greater obligations to see her again since that fateful day.

“Hurry up, Alistair,” Elissa Cousland grumbled outside of his tent. “I want to get to the smithy first thing. I need to see if he has any better daggers than the ones I took from that Chasind in the Wilds.”

“Coming, Ellie,” Alistair muttered as he exited his tent, pulling his shirt on in the process. He looked up to see Elissa staring blatantly at his torso and could feel the tips of his ears start to burn. She gave him an approving smirk. “Uh, maybe the smithy has some better pieces of armor as well.” His voice broke only a little bit; a small victory in the young former Templar’s mind. Morrigan opted to stay behind and craft potions. _Or whatever it is she really does when we’re not here. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got some sort of voodoo doll that looks like me, and she just sits there stabbing it the whole time._

It was the best shopping trip ever.

Not only was Aspasia there (with her brother Carver, and oh _Maker_ , that was an awkward moment for the ages) but the blacksmith also agreed to give them a discount if Alistair would simply show Carver a few of his moves. He had thought the Hawkes had left after they conducted their business (Sweet Andraste, did Carver ever make out like a bandit with that new blade!) but thankfully, when he turned to leave, Aspasia was waiting by the door. _Is she waiting for me? Oh pleasepleaseplease let her be waiting to talk to me!_

“So, I’m to train your little brother, eh? Frightening,” Alistair said, giving another of those lopsided grins he had learned from Sebastian Vael. _I’d like to think he’d be proud of me, talking to a woman and not dying of a panic attack in the process and all…I wonder how he’s doing? I miss him._

The mage rolled her sapphire-blue eyes. “Good luck with that. He is iron-headed. You’re the one that should be frightened, to be perfectly honest.”

They chatted idly for a few moments, and Alistair managed to convince Aspasia to accompany her brother out to camp. It was then that he had perhaps one of the best ideas ever. He would train her as well. _If nothing else, I’ll get to be even closer to her. Catch a whiff of her soap, perhaps. Maker’s breath, she is just…thank you._

Just when Alistair thought the day couldn’t get any better, Aspasia offered to have him and his companions over for dinner. On the menu? Cheese-Ale soup. _That’s it. It’s official! Lothering is heaven.I must have died at Ostagar. It’s the only explanation, really._


	3. Gaming (in the DA universe, it's called sparring)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia wears leathers. Alistair gets distracted. Morrigan...is Morrigan.

The next night, Alistair got his wish. Aspasia and her siblings had shown up at camp—and she was in a very well-fitting set of black leathers. _Distractingly_ well-fitting; the sleeveless top was skin tight and there was a tiny strip of exposed midriff right above the low-slung waistband of her pants. Alistair found himself staring at the bare swath of lower back as he followed Aspasia. _Verrrrry nice._

“These are Carver’s old leathers from a couple of years ago, before he hit his growth spurt,” Aspasia offered as she knelt down to rummage through her pack for a hair tie. “They’re a bit snug, and I had to modify them a bit so they’re more comfortable for me to wear, but they'll do for training.” Alistair found that while he physically heard her voice, he had no idea what she was _saying_ ; the twin dimples on her back were far too distracting. She gathered up her long strawberry-blonde locks and quickly tied them in a low ponytail that tumbled down her back, ending just above those devilish dimples. Even after she had gotten up and turned to face him, Alistair found he could not tear his eyes away from her curves.  

_This is it. This is where I burst into flames, or get struck by lightning--surely the Maker will punish me for all the wicked things I want to do to this woman right now._

Aspasia put her hand on his chest, and leaned in close enough for her heated breath to tickle Alistair's neck. "Like what you see, do you," she whispered, before giggling wickedly.

 _This isn't real. Can't be. I must be asleep._ Alistair pinched himself. _Damn, not dreaming!_ _And we haven’t even started—oh, Maker…if she’s doing this to me now…what if we end up on the ground together?_

Alistair didn’t have to wait long to get his answer. He was so thoroughly distracted as they sparred that he totally whiffed Aspasia with a wide-arcing sweep of his sparring 'blade'--a small limb from a nearby tree--and the mage easily knocked him to the ground with a leg sweep. She pounced like a cat, straddling and pinning him to the ground. He looked up at her and was nearly undone; her messy hair, wide eyes, heaving chest, pink cheeks, and sweaty skin all sent a frisson of pure lust surging through his core.

“Gotcha,” Aspasia panted as she grinned, holding one of her wooden ‘daggers’--a smaller branch from the same tree--over his throat.

 _Sweet Andraste, yes you do…_ Instinctively, Alistair started to bring his hands to her hips when she shot back up, quickly retreating to the secluded area where Morrigan was working on potions. Alistair let his head drop back to the ground with a thud, letting out a frustrated huff before getting back up and following her.

Alistair ran a hand through his hair, eyes dark with lust. “Why did you—“

“I-I just thought that maybe things got a bit too _intense_ ,” Aspasia blurted.

Morrigan let out a derisive snort. “ _Intense_ is putting it lightly. If I didn’t know better, it looked like the two of you were about to have a go right there on the grass,” the prickly mage teased.

Both Aspasia and Alistair turned bright red and quickly started looking anywhere but at each other.

“I…uh…I should probably go,” Aspasia whispered as she quickly walked away. Alistair could only watch in a hormone-fueled stupor, utterly unable to act.

“Here,” Morrigan said as she tossed Alistair a small bottle of clear liquid. “It's for... Go take care of yourself before... Well, why do you think _she_ left so quickly? Surely you must be in the same distress.” She gave Alistair a look of disgust as he let out a strangled groan.

_Uh, Maker? Could use that fireball or lightning bolt right about now...please? The Chantry Sisters always said you'd strike me down for having lustful thoughts, and if you strike me down now, I won't have to hear about it from Morrigan ever again. Pretty please?_

When the Maker refused to answer his plea for a merciful death, Alistair shamefully retreated to his tent.


	4. Hanging out with friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes drinking at the tavern. Alistair is scandalized.

Aspasia set down fresh mugs of ale for Alistair, Carver, and Bethany. “Guys, please try to keep it down…Dane’s getting pissed. And when he gets pissed at my friends, _I_ get in trouble,” she growled. In the corner, Morrigan still nursed her tea, and Elissa had stayed behind at camp, feigning a headache. As Aspasia walked away, Alistair watched her as discreetly as he could.

“Sorry, Sister,” Carver belched. Alistair and Bethany giggled. 

Morrigan rolled her eyes. “Please tell me that’s not your idea of an appropriate mating call, Carver,” the mage said sarcastically. “If so, ‘tis unlikely you’ll _ever_ bed a female.”

Carver, who had been taking a long pull of ale, set down his tankard and wiped his mouth roughly with a sleeve. “What? That didn’t get you all hot and bothered?”

Morrigan snorted. “Hardly.” She leaned into Bethany, whispering something in her ear. Aspasia’s little sister nodded gleefully only moments before Carver grimaced in pain, clutching at his lap as he listed to the side.

Alistair pointed and grinned broadly. “HA! I’m not the _only_ one she does that to now. Don’t worry Carver, the frost melts fairly quickly,” he said triumphantly before returning his gaze to Aspasia.

“You have to teach me that level of control, Morrigan,” Bethany pleaded.

“It’s all about concentration, Bethany,” Morrigan replied. “Speaking of concentration…I’ve never seen you so rapt, Alistair. Whoever is it that you’re watching," she asked sarcastically as she shot an obvious look at Aspasia, turning back to face Alistair with a devilish smirk.

Morrigan’s words caused Carver and Bethany to finally notice that Alistair had been staring at their sister for Maker-knows-how-long.

“Please tell me you do not have a crush on my sister,” Carver spat. “That’s just gross.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Bethany whispered. “She likes chocolate…just so you know.”

Alistair turned shades of red he once thought impossible as Carver and Bethany started to spill tiny little details about their sister. In addition to chocolate, he learned that Aspasia liked the color blue, dancing, and reading. As the twins spilled their sister’s secrets, Alistair kept glancing sideways, keeping his eyes on Aspasia as much as he could without getting called out on it again.

“Chocolate…dancing…that’s all well and good, but what does she like in a _man_?” the blonde warrior blurted as a slightly panicked look crossed his face.

Bethany noticed Alistair’s concern and sidled up to him. “If you’re wondering whether or not she likes you…I can assure you, she does. She likes men who are honest and kind. Weak spot for a good sense of humor, too. Plus, Mother adores you. Relax. Just keep being yourself,” she whispered. Alistair swallowed thickly and let out a sigh of relief. Bethany returned to Morrigan’s side, the two mages whispering about various sights in the tavern; poorly dressed women, pot-bellied drunkards, the pretty redheaded bard—all were fair game. Carver kept drinking, snatching up Bethany’s barely-touched ale when his tankard ran dry. Alistair huddled over his mug, a bemused smile on his face as he kept watching Aspasia as covertly as possible.

Eventually, Aspasia approached, wiping her hands on her apron. She plopped down beside Alistair with a huff. “Maker, it’s busy tonight. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to hang out with you guys as much as I’d hoped.” She glanced over at Alistair, who quickly looked down at his mug as his ears turned pink. “What have you all been talking about?”

“Alistair likes your arse. Been ogling it all night,” Carver slurred.

Alistair’s eyes flew wide as he looked at Aspasia and shook his head vigorously, utterly horrified.

Aspasia took notice of his adamant denial. “Is there something _wrong_ with my arse,” she asked teasingly.

“NO! I mean, uh…oh, _Maker_ ,” Alistair cringed and muttered hopelessly as he buried his head in his outstretched arms, desperate to muffle the sound of Aspasia’s musical giggling. _Real smooth, Alistair. Come on…you’ve got to recover somehow…think! What would Sebastian say? He’d likely say something rather lewd. Can I pull that off? Could always blame it on being sort-of drunk if it backfires, I guess. Here goes…_

Alistair took a deep breath before sitting back up, a lopsided grin on his face. Leaning into Aspasia as she giggled uncontrollably, he whispered in her ear: “There is absolutely, positively, _nothing_ wrong with your perfect little arse.”

The dropped jaw he received in response was _totally_ worth it.


	5. Doing something together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief foray into domesticity warms Alistair's heart.

“This rabbit stew is delicious, Lady Hawke,” Alistair said between mouthfuls. Finishing one bowl, he eagerly accepted another and ate that one just as quickly as the first. He looked up to see Leandra watching him scarf down her cooking, a bemused smile on her lips. He paused, taking a swig of small ale. “My apologies…you must think I’m horribly rude. I just work up such an appetite sparring with your very capable children," he managed to say before devouring his stew again.  _The whole Grey Warden thing doesn't help, either._

“Oh, no worries, Alistair,” Leandra Hawke said cheerfully. “And I insist…call me Leandra. I take your appetite as a great compliment. Besides, feeding you and your companions is the least I can do for all that you have taught them. Especially Aspasia—she was horrible with a blade before she met you.” _He’s such a wonderful young man. It’s a pity that he’ll be moving on soon…I’ve come to rather enjoy seeing him at my dinner table._

“Well, as soon as you’re done, Alistair, we should get going. I’d hate for it to get dark before we start,” Carver muttered as he wiped his mouth with a napkin and tossed it on the table. He rose abruptly, the chair making a loud scraping noise on the floor.

Aspasia stood and started stacking the dirty bowls. “I told Mother we’d do the dishes, Carver. Go on to the camp; we’ll be there shortly."

Finished at last, Alistair mirrored Aspasia's moves, stacking the plates as Carver and Bethany left for camp. “ _We’re_ doing the dishes? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to domesticate this wild beast of a man," he teased with a grin.

Aspasia giggled and shook her head as she carried her bowls to the deep copper sink. Alistair followed close behind, pausing to watch as she heated the standing water with a wisp of magic and dropped the dishes in the now-steaming water. When she turned to gather more dishes and nearly ran into him, Alistair’s heart did a bit of a flip-flop. _Cozy house, good food, a beautiful girl…a guy could definitely get used to this._ He smiled broadly at Aspasia, and her cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink as she sidestepped him to get to the table. He deposited his own stack of dishes into the water, grabbed the washrag, and plucked the first dirty bowl from the water.

Moments later, Aspasia dumped the last of the dishes into the sink and grabbed a towel, taking the freshly-scrubbed bowl from Alistair’s hand and wiping it dry. Working as a team, the dishes only took a few minutes to do. As Alistair handed the final dish to Aspasia, she looked up at him and gave him a crooked grin before muttering something under her breath.

Alistair leaned down, craning his ear towards her, feeling a rush from her warmth. “What did you say?”

“Oh…I just said this was nice. To have help, that is. Usually when I get stuck doing the dishes, Carver and Bethany magically disappear. And you’re certainly easier on the eyes than they are, so that’s a bonus,” Aspasia explained breathlessly.

Alistair grinned and winked at the petite blonde to his right. “I agree.”

“About what?”

“That I’m easier on the eyes,” he teased, before looking back down at the gray dishwater as a somber expression crossed his face. “And that this _is_ nice. It’s a far cry from washing things in a cold stream. Thank you…this little slice of domestic life is something I’ve always wondered about.” He looked over at Aspasia with a warm smile.

Aspasia eyed him skeptically. “You’re thanking me for the exquisite privilege of _washing dishes_?” 

Alistair chuckled to himself. “Yeah, I guess I am.” _Because it lets me be alone with you, if only for a few minutes._


	6. Cuddling somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the gang gets rained upon.

“Blasted damnation!” Morrigan yelled as the skies opened up suddenly, drenching the campsite. Everyone scattered, fleeing for cover from the deluge. Alistair grabbed Aspasia’s hand. “Come on. We’ll wait this out in my tent,” he grumbled as they dashed toward the canvas makeshift shelter. Finally inside, the pair panted as rainwater dripped off of them, tiny rivulets running down their faces.

“Andraste’s flaming knickers…I’m totally drenched,” Aspasia spat as she wrung water out of her hair. She deftly unfastened the buckles at each side of her chestpiece, pulling it over her head, leaving her in a wet linen undershirt and leather pants. Alistair followed suit, and moments later the pair sat in his tent, daylight now gone, with no nearby campfire to provide light or warmth. He couldn’t see it, but he felt Aspasia start to shiver. He rustled through his pack, searching for a candle and flint.

"Damn, where is my striking flint?"

“Alistair. Give me the candle. I’m my own flint, remember?” Aspasia chided. Alistair shook his head and handed over the candle. With a snap of her fingers, Aspasia lit the wick and there was light again at last. Alistair set the flickering candle on a crate and grabbed his blanket, wrapping it around the mage.

“There. That ought to help,” he whispered as he rubbed his arms briskly.

“Come here,” Aspasia teased, holding one side of the blanket out for him in dramatic fashion. Alistair grinned and nestled in beside her, taking the corner of the blanket and pulling it over his broad shoulder as he snaked his left arm around Aspasia’s waist. She nuzzled into him, sighing contentedly.

“I wouldn’t mind it at all if it rained all night,” Aspasia mumbled.

Alistair inhaled the scent of her hair and smiled to himself. _I wouldn’t mind either._


	7. Kissing

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Alistair had finally mustered up enough courage to ask Aspasia for a kiss while he nursed her wound from Bethany’s errant mind blast spell. They were oh-so-close, lips just about to touch, when Elissa Cousland’s jealous streak got the better of her. Before either he or Aspasia could react, the ginger mage was on the ground again, with the dagger-wielding brunette standing over her. As if that wasn’t bad enough, when Alistair pulled Elissa away she dropped her daggers from the shock of his sudden move, and they had come dangerously close to hitting Aspasia. _In the head_.

A few moments later, Alistair watched forlornly as Aspasia retreated from the camp, returning home to soothe her sore body. _Or so she says. What Elissa said, what she did…was way out of line. But I’d better smooth things over with her too, since we have to work together._ He jogged in the direction of Elissa's retreat. It didn't take long to find her sitting against a tree, head in her hands, body shuddering from huge sobs. He reached out and touched Elissa’s shoulder lightly. “Look, Elissa…it’s not that I don’t think you’re pretty. You’re very pretty. But I just don’t think it’s wise to let romance get in the way of what we need to do. Perhaps in another life—“

“Save it, Alistair,” Elissa said bitterly as she wiped away her tears. “You’ve obviously made your choice.”

Alistair crouched down and crooked a finger under her chin, gently turning her head towards him. “Elissa…please. I didn’t set out to hurt you…please don’t carry on like I did. I didn’t think I had given you any reason to think I was interested…if I did, I’m genuinely sorry.”

Fat tears slid from Elissa’s green eyes again as she let out a sigh and looked down. “You're right...you didn’t. I thought that us being the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden, locked into a hopeless mission, would be sufficient to spark something…I guess I was wrong. I've read way too many trashy romance novels, I guess. Go run…run to her. I won’t stand in your way,” she said flatly.

Alistair wasn't entirely convinced by Elissa's apology, but given her general demeanor, he thought better of questioning it. “Thank you, Ellie, for being mature about this. I won’t forget it,” he whispered as he got up and left, intent on getting to the Hawke residence before Aspasia went to bed. As he ran, he was aware of the fact that the path from camp to town was particularly dark tonight. _I hope she made it back alright. She took Barky, though…_ The more he was alone with his thoughts, the more upset Alistair grew over the confrontation. _How could Elissa be so cruel? Where does she get off thinking she had a claim to lay upon me, anyway? What she did was completely inexcusable. I hope her attitude doesn't get us into more trouble._

Before too long, Alistair had reached the Hawke residence. He let out a sigh of relief as he noticed that several of the windows were still lit. He knocked softly on the door and waited. Several moments later, Aspasia opened the door, wearing little more an achingly thin robe. He looked at her, desperate to say any of the things that swirled in his head. _I’m sorry for Elissa…I hope you’ll still come around…I find myself inexplicably drawn to you…Maker preserve me, but I’ve never felt this way about any woman ever…I wish we didn’t have to part in a few more days…I will return for you…_

Finally, Alistair decided that mere words would not do. He cupped Aspasia’s cheeks lightly in his hands and drew her in, claiming her lips in a delicate kiss that seemed to stop time itself. 


	8. Getting Married

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethany asks a simple question.

After the events of the prior night, it was decided that everyone should take it easy. Aspasia's pounding head and Carver’s sore shoulders concurred. Elissa suggested they work on simple tasks. The mages opted to craft potions and injury kits, while the others cleaned armor and sharpened blades. The six settled into a comfortable silence as they worked around the campfire in the waning springtime sunshine.

Bethany, however, couldn’t stand the fact that nobody was talking. “So, can Grey Wardens even get married?” She asked as she carefully measured out lyrium dust for a potion. She poured it into an empty flask and handed it to Morrigan.

“Of course we can,” Elissa said matter-of-factly. “Why wouldn’t we be able to marry?” She shot a sidelong glance at Alistair, who was looking at Aspasia, who was putting together another injury kit.

“Yes…we can marry,” Alistair murmured before looking at the rest of the group. “Our vows aren't that restrictive. Having children could be a bit dodgy, though.”

“Why is that?” Aspasia asked, looking up from her work.

“I-I can’t really discuss it. Not with non-Wardens. Sorry,” Alistair blurted, looking down at the longsword in his lap. He drew the whetstone down the length of the blade slowly, lost in thought. _I want to tell her. She deserves to know everything if we’re going to try and make this work. Wait a minute—Maker’s breath, what am I even thinking? Make this work? What is ‘this’, anyway? A wishful thought? Something more? I mean, we finally kissed and it was incredible…but I don’t want to hurt her._

Alistair’s train of thought was interrupted when Aspasia gently reached out and touched his knee. “Are you okay?”

Alistair swallowed thickly. “Um…I think we need to talk,” he muttered as he got up, sheathing his sword.

Aspasia looked at him curiously but followed suit, and soon the pair had taken several steps away from the fire. “Okay…you’ve got me. What did you need to say?”

Alistair ran a hand into his hair, looking down at the ground as he chewed on his lower lip. “How do you feel about me? About… _us_? Do you even think of _this_ as ‘us’?”

“Of course I do, Alistair,” Aspasia whispered as she placed a hand on his shoulder, ducking to look him in the eye. “I’ve come to care for you a great deal over the past several days. It makes me really, _really_ wish that there wasn’t a Blight…that you didn’t have to go. But that’s kind of silly, right? I mean, without the Blight, you’d never have come to Lothering. It's a blessing and a curse.”

Alistair straightened up and smiled, grabbing Aspasia’s hands, inspecting them thoroughly as he spoke. “My thoughts exactly. I mean…who would have thought…but I wouldn’t trade it for _anything_. And I know we haven’t known each other long, but I just feel…I can’t even put it into words. I’m not good at this—you’re the first woman I’ve ever felt this way about—and I’m afraid of mucking it all up.” He moved closer, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. “But what I _do_ know is that when I’m around you, I can’t even think straight. I don’t _want_ to,” he whispered before planting a sweet kiss on her forehead.

Aspasia leaned into his touch. “I agree completely. And I don’t want our impending separation to cause us to rush into things. I think it would be a mistake to force things that may not be there yet.”

Alistair let out a huge sigh of relief. “Oh Blessed Andraste, thank you,” he muttered. “Trust me, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just…I want to do this right.”

“I will wait for you,” Aspasia whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “We’re going to Highever. I’ll do everything in my power to stay there so we can find each other after this is all over.”

And in that moment, as he bent down and pressed his lips to hers, Alistair simply couldn’t make himself tell Aspasia about anything that he knew he should. Not the Taint, not the very high likelihood that he would die fighting the archdemon, and _especially_ not his secret lineage. _I’ll tell her soon enough, I swear it. But let me just enjoy the pure, simple affection I have for her a little bit longer…this is as close to living a normal life as I’ve ever felt._


	9. Dancing/Making Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana plays some music. Alistair and Aspasia dance to it. One thing leads to another. NSFW.

Alistair led Aspasia over to their newest companion, an Orlesian bard-turned-Chantry lay sister. “Aspasia, I’d like you to meet Leliana. She’s our newest—“

Aspasia squealed as she ran over to her friend. “Leli! You finally got out of the Chantry?” She grinned and threw her arms around Leliana for a quick hug.

Leliana giggled. “Maker, yes…I’ve decided to join with these fine folks here. And I see you’ve made an impression on Alistair…he hasn’t stopped talking about you,” the Orlesian said with a wink.

Alistair blushed deeply, instantly regretting introducing the two women. “I…see you two already know each other.”

“Ask _Carver_ about Leliana sometime,” Aspasia offered as Leliana started to blush slightly. “Anyway, Leliana comes into the tavern to play for us a few times per month. We’ve had some good chats during her breaks.”

“Speaking of…I think I’m going to play some music tonight. We can all relax and have a bit of fun,” the bard said with a giggle. Leliana picked up her guitar, perching on a rock by the fire. The others followed suit, and before long bottles of wine and rum started to make their way amongst the group. Soon, everybody was feeling good (except Morrigan) and Leliana started to strum a spicy tune. “This is a traditional Antivan song. When you dance to it, it’s best to swing your hips as much as possible.”

As Leliana played, the tune wormed its way into everybody’s soul (except Morrigan’s) and nobody could resist at least swaying a little as they watched the redhead’s fingers dance over the fretboard. “Care to dance?” Aspasia asked as she rose, extending a hand down to Alistair. He took her hand and stood, allowing her to lead him as she sauntered away, until she found a small clearing apart from the others. She stopped, swaying her hips in time with Leliana’s song, looking at him through thick lashes. _Those damned leathers are going to be the death of me._

Breath caught in Alistair’s throat as he responded, matching her movements. He pulled her into him, putting his hands on her hips as they stepped forward and back, the space between their heated bodies virtually nonexistent. As the music increased in tempo, so did they, eyes locked, mouths slightly parted as their bodies pressed together completely. The music stopped and Alistair dipped Aspasia low, mouths hovering only inches apart as they panted.

“Tent. _Now_ ,” Alistair growled just before letting her up. They hurried off, scrambling inside. It was mostly dark, the blazing fire outside providing the only illumination. Alistair pulled his tent flap shut and hooked two small loops over their matching toggles, keeping it closed, while Aspasia sparked the lone candle inside.

"I can't take this anymore," he growled as he rounded on Aspasia and grabbed her, pulling her close as he kissed her passionately.

"Nor can I," Aspasia moaned breathlessly.

Their tongues danced frantically as the pair was desperate to consume each other at long last. “Leathers. _Off_ ,” Aspasia commanded, mimicking Alistair’s order from just a few moments prior.

A quirked eyebrow aimed in her direction let Aspasia know she was moving a bit faster than Alistair preferred.

“Well…just our chestpieces, anyway," Aspasia said as she started unfastening her buckles.

Alistair smiled and nodded, never taking his eyes off of her. His fingers flew, pulling leather through brass without a thought. A groan escaped his lips as she pulled her chestpiece over her head, dragging linen undertunic with it, nearly exposing her breastband. Leather gone, Alistair felt Aspasia’s body heat even more intensely when he pulled her into his arms again. _She is not going to make taking things slow very easy, is she?_ A twitch below the belt confirmed his thought.

Alistair spun them, falling on his bedroll rather elegantly (for a change) and pulling Aspasia on top of him. She straddled him, positioning herself over his now-uncomfortably hard length, and pulled the pin holding her bun in place. Ginger curls cascaded down as she leaned down to kiss him, her hair a soft, honeysuckle-scented curtain around them. He twirled his hands in her tendrils, marveling at its softness as he lazily dragged his fingers through it. He trailed his fingers down her back, until they reached those sinful hips of hers and clutched tight. Aspasia let out a soft moan and Alistair involuntarily bucked his hips against hers, causing him to return the sound as a wave of pleasure washed over him.

Alistair relished the feel of Aspasia’s soft curves as he kneaded his hands, causing her to roll her hips lazily against him. The seam of her leather pants was thick enough to put pressure in just the right spot of his swollen cock, causing the coil in his belly to twist even tighter and he wanted _more._  Alistair boldly guided Aspasia against him again, a hissed _yes_ encouraging Aspasia to continue her gyrations without further help, freeing his hands to wander up her torso, ghosting over her breasts and stomach, finally reaching around her as he pulled her in for another heated kiss.

Aspasia broke the kiss and pulled back, tearing off her linen undershirt and unclasping her breastband as quickly as she could. Alistair gasped at the sight of her, backlit by the diffused firelight, glowing as if an angel from above. He hesitated briefly before gingerly cupping her ample breasts. She sighed as he brushed her nipples, eyes rolling back in bliss, and he could think of no sweeter sound.  _Damned wicked leather pants,_  he thought as he sat up, Aspasia still in his lap. She pulled his undershirt over his head and ran her hands over his chest as he reached between them to untie the waistband of his pants, desperate to relieve some of the building pressure down below. He laid back down again, and before long they were frantically grinding their hips together, delighting in the feel of their flesh, locked lips swallowing each others’ groans. Deep down, Alistair knew they should stop--they'd agreed to not take this too far--but it felt too damned _good_. Aspasia leaned over just a bit more, her breasts swaying enticingly as she changed the angle of their hips ever-so-slightly. Now she was rubbing directly against the sensitive head of his cock, which had sprang free when Alistair loosened his pants. The feel of her skin, the warmth of her breath, the scent of her hair...Alistair was overwhelmed and couldn't hold back much longer, so he just gripped her ass and held on for dear life.

“Yesss…right there…oh, Alistair… _Holy Maker_ ,” she hissed in his ear just before she started to buck against him. The hot words in his ear caused the final thread of Alistair’s restraint to snap and he climaxed hard, vision darkening at the edges, turning a hazy white all over as a strangled grunt escaped him.

They stayed still for several moments, breathing hard and looking at each other with wide eyes. “Did that really just happen?” Aspasia blurted.

“Umm…I’m pretty sure, yep,” Alistair said breathlessly as he felt his cock twitch its last. He leaned up, gave her a tender kiss, and fell back to his bedroll with a sigh. “But that felt _damned_ good.” _Maker’s breath, I can’t even imagine how I’d make it through actual sex if I can’t even keep from coming undone in my pants._

“Agreed. But I know we talked about..."

"Yeah...I know. We got a bit carried away, but I don't think either of us could have withstood the tension much longer," Alistair said with a grin.

Aspasia shook her head and giggled. "Now I’m sleepy though,” she said as she yawned. “I don’t want to make that trek back to town…”

“Stay here, with me. I’ve got an extra shirt for you to sleep in. I only ask that you let me…uh…clean up.”

Aspasia gave him a sly smile as she rolled off of him, leering as she pulled on her undershirt and stepped outside. When he emerged a few minutes later, she ducked inside to put on the shirt he left out for her. Her soft _Alistair_ beckoned him back inside and they snuggled together for warmth as they fell asleep in each others’ arms.

There were absolutely _no_ dreams of archdemons that night.


	10. Cuddling/Morning Ritual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair prays. Aspasia overhears him.

The first rosy fingers of dawn caused Alistair to stir slightly, but it was the feel something next to him that caused him to jolt into full consciousness with a gasp. When he realized it was Aspasia, he admonished himself for being so paranoid--he was the one to suggest she sleep over, after all. Fortunately, the jerk and gasp he'd made hadn't registered with her at all, as she still slept soundly. Alistair reached over and swept stray red-gold locks from her cheeks as he watched her sleep. _So peaceful…so beautiful. I wish I could capture this moment forever._ Pain gripped his chest as he realized that this was the next-to-last day he would see her. _I want to come back for you. I promised I would...but..._ Alistair knew the simple fact was that he would die in the Fifth Blight. Even if he survived long enough to meet the archdemon, he had resolved to make the killing blow in order to avenge Duncan's death. Wrapping his arm around Aspasia’s waist, he nuzzled into the back of her neck, planting delicate kisses there as his wide hand ran up and down her stomach. _I…I love you._ Part of him yearned to say it, even then, hoping it would worm its way into her dreaming state but he didn’t. He couldn’t. _It's too soon, and you're going to break her heart…even if this_ does _feel right._

Hopelessly awake now, Alistair decided to go ahead and get up. He threw on a shirt and exited the tent, facing the sun as he knelt on the dew-damp grass. Watching the sky’s hazy dark blue continue to give way to brilliant shades of red, pink, orange, and yellow, Alistair folded his hands, closed his eyes, and started to say his morning prayers as he had done every morning for as long as he could remember, his voice scarcely above a murmur.

"Maker, thank You for blessing us with another fine day. Thank you for blessing me with this life, my friends, and my family. Watch over me today as I try to do your will. Give me the strength to face the trials I must, he courage to walk away from those battles not worth waging, and the wisdom to differentiate between the two."

Aspasia stirred at the loss of Alistair’s warmth and sat up, bewildered. She got up and was about to exit the tent to look for him when she heard Alistair's hushed tone. She got as close as she could towards the sound of his voice and listened, reveling in the richness of his voice.

"Maker, please guide Aspasia and her family as they leave on their journey. If it is Your will, please bring us back together. I have never known a woman like her…I think I’m actually in love with her."

Hearing his words, Aspasia furrowed her brow and bit at her lower lip to keep from crying. She could never have imagined she would be in this position, and had absolutely no idea how to handle all of the emotions that flooded her now.

"Maker, I’ve never been one to ask for much, but…please? Can I have _this_? _Her_? But if You don’t see fit to bring us back together, could You at least let her survive the Blight? Thank You. Amen."


	11. Arguing/Making Up/Doing Something Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair reveals an uncomfortable truth. NSFW.

Apart from the others, Alistair and Aspasia watched the dancing campfire, mesmerized by the flames as they enjoyed their last night together. The Warden was lost in thought, worried about how best to bring up those dreaded topics that he knew he had to. Withdrawing his arm from around Aspasia’s exposed shoulders, he trailed his fingers down the linen sleeve of her dress until he reached her hand. Taking it gently, he threaded his fingers with hers one digit at a time. “There’s something I need to tell you, my dear,” he murmured as he inspected the fit of their hands.

Aspasia giggled nervously. “Let me guess…you’re already betrothed? Disfiguring birthmark? Come on…you can tell me anything, Alistair.”

Alistair’s face bore a pained expression, but he still managed to give her a weak smile. “See? I love that. I can tell you anything…and that’s what makes this particularly difficult. You’ve heard the stories…about how only the Grey Wardens can kill an archdemon, right?”

"Sort of?" Aspasia said, mounting concern starting to show on her face. "I don't know much about the Wardens, actually."

“Right. Well, I'll tell you as much as I can. We are the only ones who can end the Blight because of what we go through in order to become a Grey Warden. It is our power and our curse, unfortunately. What this means is that when the archdemon is killed…the Warden who makes the killing blow dies as well.”

Aspasia’s face blanched as his words took hold. “So what you’re saying is…if _you_ make the killing blow, you’ll die. And there’s only two of you left. If I know you at all…you’re not going to let Elissa die. You’re too chivalrous for your own damned good,” she muttered, chewing on her thumbnail. “No wonder you didn’t tell me before…you’re not coming back.” Alistair watched tears well up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. Then, quick as a cat, Aspasia shot up and ran away.

“Aspasia, wait!” Alistair cried out as he chased after her. Aspasia made it all the way to the nearby creek before she stopped, dropping to her knees as sobs wracked her body. Alistair stopped behind her, fighting tears of his own as he watched her look to the sky and ask  _Why?_ over and over. He tried to get closer, but stepped on a twig. She whipped around at the sound, eyes narrowing as she spotted Alistair.

Aspasia leapt to her feet, charging at him with fury. “Did you mean _anything_ you said, knowing all the while that you wouldn’t come back?” She planted both hands firmly on Alistair’s chest and shoved him.

Alistair stumbled back slightly, grabbing her by wrists so he could explain himself. He looked into her eyes, desperate. “Of course I did! How could you even—“

“Do you have any idea to what extent a man will lie just so he can have a girl’s maidenhead?” Aspasia interrupted.

“What are you talking about? We didn't--”

Aspasia pulled free of Alistair’s grasp, sitting on a fallen tree trunk that rested on the bank of the creek. Alistair sat beside her as she started to speak. “Don’t say anything…but Bethany isn’t a virgin. She was seeing a guy a couple of months ago…told her he was a soldier. He gave my little sister a whole damn sob story about how he might never come back…that they couldn’t afford to wait…so she slept with him, thinking she might never see him again. Turns out, he was from Redcliffe, in town visiting a friend. He’s married—has a house full of kids, too. Bethany was devastated when she found out. It's different for women, you know. Our purity is our worth. Without it, we cannot hope to marry well.”

Alistair cringed. _If I’d only known…no wonder she thinks I’m full of shit._ “Is _that_ what you think I’m up to? That I’m building you up, stringing you along, only to take you for a tumble and run?”

Aspasia idly twirled a golden curl around her index finger. “I don’t think so, but—“

He seized her shoulders, gazing into her eyes. “I would _never_ lie to you.”

“Why weren’t you up front about your inevitable fate, then?” Aspasia asked, crestfallen.

Alistair released her shoulders and folded his hands in his lap. He looked down, took a deep breath, and met her eyes again. “Because for the first time in my _life_ , I’m happy. _You_ make me happy. These past two weeks have been the closest I’ve ever had to a normal life. It’s been a fairy tale…and I was being selfish. I didn’t want it to end by talking about stuff like the fact that I’ll most likely die,” he said sorrowfully. “You were right—I _had_ decided to make the killing blow, in order to spare Elissa. But that was before I met you.”

Aspasia sniffled as she wiped away an errant tear. “What’s changed?”

Alistair gently brushed her cheek, twining his fingers in her hair. “Now I’m not so sure I’m willing to give my life away so quickly. I have something— _someone_ to fight for,” he explained, giving her a broad smile before furrowing his brows. “I can't promise I’ll survive…that’d be foolish, considering what Elissa and I are tasked with. But what I _can_ promise is to do all I can to find a way to kill the archdemon and live.” He pulled her in close, back pressed to him, as he planted a kiss in her soft red-gold hair to calm his quivering lower lip. “If I can’t—if I must die in order to end the Blight—know that I will die to make sure that you will be able to live your life fully. Promise me you will,” he whispered in her ear as a tear slid down his cheek.

Aspasia nodded as tears spilled down her own cheeks. “I promise. I’m so sorry, Alistair, for doubting you.”

“Considering what happened to Bethany, you are fully within your rights to doubt me. I would, were I you,” Alistair said solemnly as he held her waist tightly, nuzzling into the slope of her shoulder. He inhaled deeply, the scent of her honeysuckle-and-vanilla soap on her skin positively intoxicating.

They stayed like that for several quiet moments. Finally Aspasia broke the silence. “I heard your prayer…did you mean what you said?”

Alistair grimaced as he recalled the prayer. He chuckled and kissed her neck. “I say a lot of things during my prayers. Beg for global domination, make deals with demons to win the affections of pretty girls…why?”

“I…I think I’m actually in love with you, too,” she whispered as she pulled out of Alistair's grip to face him. They melted into each other, lips parting to allow tongues to dance wickedly. He wound one hand in her hair and pulled her head back gently, trailing his lips along her jaw. A teasing nip just below the earlobe elicited a tiny squeak from Aspasia. Alistair hummed his approval against her neck, causing her to shiver hard.

“What _is_ this thing,” he muttered as he fumbled with the knotted kerchief around Aspasia’s neck.

“Lothering ‘high fashion’…and a convenient way to cover marks left behind by certain hot-blooded Grey Wardens,” Aspasia shot back.

“So it is,” Alistair purred against heated skin as he pulled away the offending fabric, revealing a nicely purpled bite mark. “I’d hate to leave you lopsided, though.” He shifted Aspasia in his arms to access the other side of her neck, sweeping back her locks hurriedly before clamping down on the skittering pulse point he found there and sucking hard. He felt her gasp more than he heard it, and she arched her back against him.

Slowly, he ran his hands over her neck, down the slope of her shoulders, catching the neckline of her linen chemise and sliding it down as far as her boned waist cincher would allow. “Maker’s breath,” he whispered as calloused fingers glided across stiff rosy nipples. Aspasia moaned loudly as she keened against him even more, pressing her breasts harder against busy fingers.

“These are fun! Do you ever do this to yourself? Because if _I_ had breasts, I’d play with them all the time…archdemon be damned,” Alistair teased as he kissed the slope of Aspasia’s shoulders.

“This and _more_ ,” she purred.

Alistair swallowed hard. “Define more,” he growled, though he had a feeling he knew what she was talking about.

“I could show you what I did after that first night we sparred, how about that?” Aspasia replied. Alistair gasped, then groaned as she guided his hand under her skirts, up her thighs, until he was touching _her_. He marveled at how she responded as her hand expertly guided his, and before long her hips were rocking in perfect rhythm with their hands, soft whimpers giving way to guttural moans. Unable to contain his curiosity, he leaned down and took a nipple in his mouth, surprised when her entire body went stiff. A faint crackle of soft purple electricity washed over her as her body shuddered in orgasm.

“You…didn’t do _that_ the other night,” Alistair whispered, surprised at Aspasia’s release of magic.

“That’s because I don’t remember the last time I came this hard,” she panted in reply as she craned her neck to give Alistair a kiss. “That was _amazing_.”

“Okay…so that was a _good_ thing. Got it.”

“The first time I did this to myself, I accidentally set my nightstand on fire. This is an improvement. Now…I’m sure you’re rather... _uncomfortable._ I’d like to return the favor, if I could.”

“Oh yes, by all means,” Alistair murmured as Aspasia wriggled free of his grasp. He watched, rapt, as she turned to face him, slim fingers unfastening the buckles of his chestpiece. Before he knew it, Alistair was sitting under the waning gibbous moon, half-naked, with a mop of red-gold curly hair kissing, licking, nibbling, and sucking its way down his torso. He couldn’t help but moan as she sucked on his nipples, flicking her tongue over the sensitive flesh and giggling against him when an errant _Holy Maker!_ escaped from his lips after a particularly well-placed light scrape of her teeth.

“Here…sit on the ground before you fall backward,” Aspasia ordered as she tugged at his hips. Alistair slid to the grassy bank, resting against the tree trunk, devilish mage fingers ghosting over his abdomen until they found the ties of his pants and pulled the knotted bow free. His hips bucked involuntarily when her hand slipped inside, palming his hard, velvety length. Before she had a chance to, Alistair slipped his thumbs in the waistband of his pants and smalls, easing them over his hips to give her better access. He squeezed his eyes shut, reveling in the new sensation as Aspasia started to stroke him slowly, her motions exploratory. Before long, he was panting hard, thrusting against her strokes as his climax steadily approached.

 _I really want to watch this…_ Curious, Alistair opened his eyes just as Aspasia wrapped her lips around the swollen head of his cock for the first time. The sight of her and the sensation of her warm, wet mouth and wicked tongue were too much to bear for long; he soon roared in his climax, body spasming, hot seed spilling down her throat.

It seemed like hours had passed before Alistair could form a coherent thought again.

Aspasia had already sat up and was straightening her dress when he finally opened his eyes again. “Wha—Where did you learn such a thing?”

“I work in a tavern. One of the men was talking about a woman in Denerim who gave things called 'blow jobs'. I was curious, so I asked Leliana what they were. She has quite the colorful past, you know. I think you'll find her a resourceful ally,” Aspasia muttered as she tied the kerchief around her neck again, trying to adjust it so that both hickeys would be covered.

“Maker, am I glad for it,” Alistair whispered as he looked at Aspasia, the creek just behind her shimmering like liquid silver in the moonlight. “And I’m glad for you. I’ll never give you reason to doubt me again.” He gave her a quick kiss and dressed quickly, and as they returned to camp Alistair silently berated himself for not telling her the other important things that he knew he should. _I’ll tell her after the Blight is over. No need to burden her with all this bastard Prince nonsense right now._


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and his companions leave Lothering, but not before he receives a gift from Aspasia.

Alistair watched the door to Aspasia’s house close one last time. He turned away, fighting the hot tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. Never before had he felt so torn, so unsure about his duty. His heart beckoned him to abandon the mission, to stay with Aspasia and make sure she and her family survived the Blight. But in his head, he knew that he was one of only two who could actually _end_ it.

Alistair was deep in thought as he made his way back to camp, rubbing his thumb across the back of the new (to him, anyway) golden hawk-shaped amulet that Aspasia had given him. _All I gave her was that silly rose…but she seemed to really like it. And she said the spell she put on it will keep it alive forever…that was sweet._ He let the bauble rest against the hollow of his throat, and as it touched his skin, he felt a pleasant warmth.

_I really, really need to find a way to kill the archdemon without sacrificing myself. I must return to her…I love her. I can’t deny it any longer. I will use my love for her to fuel my blade, to be ever-vigilant so that we can end the Blight as soon as possible. And then I will make her mine. We’ll settle down somewhere in the Bannorn, perhaps. A little cottage, with some cows and a garden. A baby or six. A simple life, yes, but it’s all I’ve ever wanted. Nobody ever has to know about my bloodline. Too bad there’s not a cure for the Joining. Thirty years…that’ll have to be enough time to love her…it’s all we’ll have, if we’re lucky._

Once he reached the campsite, Alistair pushed his way past the others and started to carry his things out of the tent, preparing to take it down. Totally absorbed in thought, he didn’t notice Morrigan approach until she spoke, which made him nearly jump out of his skin. “Nice necklace,” she said as she pointed to Alistair’s amulet, ignoring the hickey right above its chain on the side of his neck.

“Um…yeah. Aspasia gave it to me, for luck,” he muttered, just wanting the mage to go away.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to stop and stand up with a resigned sigh. _Ugh. Great. She wants to talk._ Morrigan sized him up, her golden eyes fixing upon the necklace ‘round his neck. “A fine piece of jewelry…’tis also enchanted,” she said with a bemused grin.

Alistair gave her a skeptical glance. “Enchanted how?” _I mean, Aspasia said it was special, that it would help my strength and stamina. Maybe that’s what the Witch means._

Morrigan ran a finger under the amulet, sizing it up. She quirked an eyebrow. “Very powerful…yet very simple magic. Perhaps it’s best to not say…so you do not think about it overmuch. Just know that she did not lie. A sweet gesture…one can only hope that you had the presence of mind to return the favor.”

“I, uh, gave her a rose,” Alistair said, swallowing hard due to Morrigan’s scrutiny. “She did a little sparklefinger thing to it to preserve it.”

“Well, it’s not a pretty jewel…but if she was pleased by it, I cannot fault your efforts, Alistair,” Morrigan said as she turned and walked away, smiling to herself. _And there’s my opening. His love for her will compel him to agree with my proposition…when the time is right._

An hour later, Alistair and his companions walked westward along the Imperial Highway, bound for Redcliffe. He looked over his shoulder at Lothering for the last time and tried to stifle the pang of regret he felt for leaving Aspasia and her family behind.

**_-0-0- FIN -0-0-_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually finished a story! Maker be praised!


End file.
